


How I Got Over You

by prettymins



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Drifting Apart, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, Jisung and Minho are Ex Best Friends, Kissing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-High School, Slice of Life, You May Hate Minho In This Story, get it together Jisung and Minho ugh, its not as sad as it sounds, meeting up for the first time in a while, okay i think that’s it for now, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-02-08 15:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymins/pseuds/prettymins
Summary: In Han Jisung’s eyes, Lee Minho is an immoral person.“He doesn’t love me back. I need help getting over him.”Jisung confessed to his best friend, Minho, when he was sixteen. Six years after he was rejected, Minho is begging Jisung for help to get over another boy.





	1. First Contact (After a While)

**Author's Note:**

> hello, prettymins here!! hope you enjoy the first chapter of How I Got Over You <33

There are days when the world just seems against you. The days when you walk out of home without a jacket, and suddenly a cold gust brings goosebumps prickling at your skin. The days when you’re in a rush and you keep dropping your keys as you try to lock the door in haste. The days when you go shopping and come home without your most important ingredient or necessity. They’re days where some find themselves blinking back tears purely because nothing seems to be going right, or their heart clenches all day in begrudging anticipations for the _next_ bad thing to happen. 

This was not one of those days– at least not in Han Jisung’s eyes.

It was pelting rain when he opened his eyes in the morning. But that’s okay, he likes rain and was recently gifted an awfully cute umbrella – adorned with frogs and lily pads. His instant coffee supply has run thin. He just thinks that’s an excuse to gather his pocket change and buy a latte from his favourite cafe. On his way to the clothing store he works at he accidentally steps in a puddle and is now suffering an uncomfortable squelch in his left shoe. Still, that’s nothing he can’t come back from. Besides, there’s a heater in the break room he can use once he arrives at work. 

He arrived – sock growing increasingly soggier – and began working. Plastering a genuine smile on his face whenever a customer approached him. Jisung didn’t have the most eccentric or up-to-date style, but the fact that he wore simple outfits that looked good meant he seemed the most approachable – less daunting than his fashion guru colleagues. His _Have-A-Nice-Day!_ chimed through the store as a constant, always with the same tone and an infectious grin. His work-mates loved him, his boss loved him, the customers loved him— well, falling in love as much as possible in the short time he helped them. 

In no time he was sent to the change rooms for his final two hours, greeting Hyunjin behind the counter as she fiddled various blouses onto plastic clothes-hangers. He sighed and leant over the counter, watching as Changmin complimented a woman who was flattening a green dress over her stomach whilst looking skeptically into a mirror. 

“It’s so slow today.” He complained, a slight whine to his voice which Hyunjin giggled at.

“What? You like it when it’s busy?” Her eyes didn’t tear away from the clothes rack, beginning to pile items on the counter by Jisung’s arms. 

Hyunjin was a hard worker, but still a good conversation. She was very sweet and shy, but her good looks and the way her hair fell perfectly over one shoulder caused customers to become slightly intimidated. When Jisung sees her nervously interacting with reluctant customers he’s reminded of one phrase: they’re more afraid of you than you are of them. Ultimately, Hyunjin works better in any situation where clothes need to be placed somewhere, whilst Jisung was usually shoved in the direction of customer service. Due to this, they don’t see each other often at work, even though they thoroughly enjoy each other’s company.

“It’s more fun.” He moves back from the pile on the bench. “I feel like there’s nothing to do today.” 

Hyunjin hummed, adjusting her lanyard over her sweater before turning to Jisung. “I feel like I can’t think when it’s busy. There’s too much going on.”

Jisung’s eyes caught movement and he was quick to lean over the counter, speaking sweetly to a girl looking roughly in her teens. “How many items? Three? Okay, go straight through and to your left.”

He handed the customer a card with a bold print number on it before leaning back and nodding to Hyunjin. “Sorry–, but I guess my simple response is that I don’t much like thinking when I’m working.”

“Spoken like a true salesman.” The girl laughed lightly before picking up the pile of clothes that had accumulated on the counter. “I’m going back out on floor to rack these. Don’t get too bored.”

The rest of his shift when surprisingly quickly. His favourite person to work with – Dahyun, two years older than himself – arrived and cracked jokes for an hour before he clocked off. He’d dried his sock and shoe in the break-room, so he was no longer suffering the displeasurable feeling of moist toes. He decided now he should treat himself to that coffee shop he fancied, carrying his umbrella in his hand. The rain had cleared up into a dreary looking overcast day; but Jisung wasn’t bothered, he quite liked days like these. 

The walk was ten minutes. He called his mum to ask about her day so far and avoided the puddle he had stepped in earlier. The bell above the door tinkled when he entered, and he was encased with the classic warmth any cafe is likely to emit. He ordered his staple chai latte to stay, small talking with the barista about trivial things like the weather and keep cups. The barista’s hair had grown out a little bit since the last time Jisung had seen him, gentle curls resting on his forehead. He had to shake his head a little to get the hair to stop tickling the skin above his eyebrows sometimes, and he muttered to himself about booking a hair appointment soon. 

Jisung took a seat by the window in a comfy looking armchair, scrolling through his Instagram to see what his friends and the celebrities he admired were up to. His favourite actor bought a dog, his old high school debutante date climbed a mountain with her boyfriend, his friend Eric posted a series of selfies with a cheesy caption. It went on like this for a while, Jisung mindlessly double tapping his screen before girl who seemed the same age as Jisung brought his latte in a moss-green mug, landing it with a satisfying clunk onto the glass surface of the table at his knees. Jisung clicked his phone shut and thanked her with a trademark smile, placing a hand over the drink to gage its warmth. 

His phone was placed on the table because Jisung was always cautious and liked to pick up his drink with both hands. This was following a particularly traumatic experience where a friend had scared him whilst he carried a hot chocolate as a child, ending with burns on his hands that stung for weeks after. His phone vibrated, making a buzzing sound on the glass that caused Jisung’s eyes to slide towards it.

> **IMESSAGE:  
>  Unknown Number:** Hey, Han Jisung?  
>  _Sent 3:16PM_

Jisung’s brows furrowed and he sipped at his drink whilst still watching his phone in curiosity. Another message came through.

> **IMESSAGE:  
>  Unknown Number:** It’s Lee Minho, from high school. Can we meet up?  
>  _Sent 3:16PM_

Jisung burnt his tongue, and he decided that this was one of those days where the world really was against him.

 

↓

 

How does one describe Han Jisung’s relationship with Lee Minho? Can someone give the basics? It was something carefree and heartwarming— until it wasn’t. Now it was estranged and uncomfortable. Jisung figures that the problem there is that there was no _relationship_ in the first place.

The _relationship_ he’s referring to is a romantic one. The ones with the kissing and heart fluttering compliments. He never had that with Lee Minho – apart from, sadly, in his stupid teenage dreams. 

There shouldn’t have been a problem really. Except there was, and it lay in the fact that Minho and Jisung were best friends when Jisung figured he was in love for the first time. He doesn’t think about it anymore, because he finds his sixteen year old self quite pathetic, really. Not that he’s much better now at the golden age of twenty-two. 

In fact, the last time he actually thought about Lee Minho was just after his twentieth birthday when he woke up from the disturbing dream of his mother chasing him with a shopping cart while Minho observed the two from a lifeguard watchtower. Jisung shook that subconscious hallucination from his head pretty quick, though – quite eager to escape the memory. 

His parents used to ask about him a lot, wondering what he was up to and what he was doing. Jisung got tired of explaining that they weren’t friends, and yes, even if they’d been best friends for five years you can still drift apart – and no, they didn’t fight. 

Five years. That’s how long it took Han Jisung to fall in love. Beginning at the age of eleven, he’d always thought Minho was very cool. At twelve he found himself jealous of Minho having friends aside from him. At thirteen he thought Minho looked really pretty with his new glasses. At fourteen, they both started shyly talking about how they felt towards other people and confessed that maybe they liked girls _and_ boys. At fifteen Minho got accepted into a dance academy, and Jisung tried not to notice that the older boy was bulking up. 

At sixteen, Jisung’s heart would pick up at even the slightest things Minho did. He would constantly think about the dancer, and think about how pretty he looked all the time. His skin would burn at just Minho calling his name, and he began to long for the boy when he lay awake in bed at night – tossing and turning at the need for Minho to be next to him. 

He remembers the exact moment he decided to tell Minho he loved him. In fact, he’d just missed an opportunity to do so. Minho had left from a night together watching dumb movies and playing too many violent video games, hugging Jisung’s mother on his way out of the door. Jisung doesn’t know how long he stood in front of the door at the dragging time of ten-thirty in the morning, ignoring his mums questions of what he was doing that day.

Jisung knew exactly what he’d be doing. He’d be moping over how Minho hadn’t kissed him last night or confessed his love to Jisung. He’d be thinking of how cowardly he was, and how he should have held Minho’s hand as he slept beside him. His heart clenched at how close Minho was, asleep, and Jisung had hoped the older would shift to cling onto him in his unconsciousness. Jisung knew exactly what Minho smelled like, and he wanted to be surrounded by the scent whilst wrapped up in his doona – pressed close to _him._

Jisung had these pitiful dreams of craving – ones where Minho would wrap his arms around his waist without intention. Or ones where Minho would kiss him, brushing his fingers through his hair. Being a teenager, there were others, filled with Jisung’s shirt bunching up over his chest as the older boy dragging his fingers up and down his skin, ones where Jisung had imagined laboured breaths filling the room as hips worked together. Even simple thoughts of Minho dragging his lips over Jisung’s throat – leaving clear and throbbing marks – were enough to have the younger waking up with a yearning feeling to be taken care of. 

Jisung decided that he didn’t want to dream anymore.

So he messaged Minho, something that he hoped wouldn’t get the dancer too worked up.

> **sungie:** i have to talk to you about something  
>  **sungie:** but i want to say it to your face  
>  _Sent 11:03AM_  
>  **sungie:** are you busy after school tomorrow?  
>  _Sent 11:04AM_  
>  Read 11:04AM  
>  **leemin:** I’m not busy. Are you OK?  
>  _Sent 11:05AM_  
>  Read 11:05AM  
>  **sungie:** im fine. see you tomorrow :)  
>  _Sent 11:05AM  
>  Read 11:06AM_

He barely ate lunch the next day. Poking around at his plate without bringing much food to his lips. He regretted sending that message, thinking about it made his stomach churn with unease. Jisung had successfully avoided Minho for the majority of the day aside from their interactions in the hallway on the way to class. Jisung giving a tense smile while Minho nods in his direction, a strange swirl of curiosity in his eyes. The younger disappeared into the library at breaks – somewhere Minho seldom ventured to because of many reasons (mainly, he was too lazy). He had his phone face up and couldn’t help but constantly glance at it. He hoped for a message from Minho, something along the lines of _Sorry! Something’s come up, I can’t meet you today :(_ to which Jisung would reply _no problem, its not important anyway!!_

He never got that message. 

By last period his stomach was churning beyond the point of uncomfortable. He didn’t even know what to say to Minho, possibly he could brush it off and say he forgot? It was a stretch, but Jisung thinks he could pull it off. He’d never felt anxiety as bad as this. He could feel his heartbeat all over his body, it made his fingers twitch with every thump and his mind throb in time with them. His teacher called on him to read out a paragraph from the neglected textbook in front of him, but his words came out slightly strangled because his chest felt like it was being compressed between the palms of a giant. Jisung wishes the giant would just push a little harder, maybe then he’d pass out and could use it as an excuse to avoid Minho more. 

And then the bell went, ringing in his ears. He’d never hated the stupid high pitched clangs of the bell so much in his life, he even had a brief thought of using his chair to beat the tinny thing off of the wall in the hallway outside. Jisung doesn’t remember wanting school to ever go for longer – or forever for that matter – but at this point in time he wanted nothing more than to be assigned more pages of questions to finish off before he was allowed to leave. 

He didn’t want to see Minho after school. But even after he spent a prolonged amount of time packing his things and strolling towards the gates (stopping to greet a few teachers on the way, even) he could still spot Minho standing at the front gates. Jisung’s phone buzzed in his pocket. _Perfect,_ he thought. _Another reason to delay._

He stopped walking and dragged the device from his pocket. Sighing when he saw the notifications on it.

> **KAKAOTALK**  
>  **leemin:** Hey! Where are you?
> 
> **SNAPCHAT**  
>  _New Chats in **korean ext gang** !_
> 
> **INSTAGRAM**  
>  _**sooyougn, cbang9719** and **basixfelic** recently added to their stories!_

shoved his phone back into his pocket and began walking towards Minho, his feet dragging in a way he could only describe as childish. He shouldn’t be internally complaining about this so much, he brought it upon himself – but the feeling in his stomach was almost unbearable.

Minho finally notices him— and even though Jisung hates to admit it, the gross flipping of his stomach was alleviated slightly after seeing Minho’s smile. 

“Hey, I thought you forgot.” Minho said, walking to meet Jisung at the middle distance. Half of his collar was tucked underneath his grey pullover, adorned with the school logo. Jisung wanted to reach over and tug it free, would that give him away?

“Oh no, sorry–” He curled his fingers around the straps of his bag. “I had to do a job for Mr Choi. He kept me back.”

Jisung swears Minho’s eyes sharpened for a moment, like he was judging Jisung’s slightest movements. Soon, he was smiling again. “Ah, okay. Where do you want to go?”

Jisung hummed, beginning to walk towards the gates where Minho stood earlier. There weren’t many students around anymore – a girl stood on the other side of the fence, most probably waiting for her parent to swoop into the parking space in front of her. 

“Sundaes?” He said, turning his head towards Minho, ignoring the wild animals set loose inside of him. 

“Yeah? We’ll take my car, I drove today.” 

Minho lead the way. _Thank god,_ Jisung thought to himself. He could feel his legs shaking as he stood still at the passenger door, waiting for Minho to fit his keys into the drivers side so he could open the door. 

“Hurry up, hyung,” Jisung whined, pushing his weight against the car. “I’m hungry!”

Minho just laughed, finally unlocking the car and climbing in. It wasn’t a fancy car – 2010 Hyundai Elantra – but it was Minho’s baby. His grandparents bought it for his 17th birthday. Minho was so grateful for the gift that he barely even paid any mind to the ugly maroon colour of the car. He took Jisung for a drive in it the day after he achieved his license, taking them out for a day trip to Gangneung, all the way on the other side of the country from Incheon. Jisung had blown his whole allowance paying for all of their meals; various sweets, snacks and endless amounts of seafood. Minho was so happy that day, his eyes constantly crinkled with a smile as they sang bubblegum pop songs on the radio. It was possibly Jisung’s favourite memory. 

Now, he and Minho were in the same car. It wasn’t as cheery, but Minho’s soft singing of _Good-bye Baby_ by Miss A was enough to bring a smile to Jisung’s face. At this point in time, Jisung wasn’t scared of confessing.

Minho has driven them both to the Baskin Robbins closest to their school. Somewhere they frequented often on a Thursday when their classes ended early, allowing them extra time before they were due home. It took Jisung a minute to get out of the car, he was gathering to gather at least a few coherent thoughts. 

“You okay?” Minho questioned him, pushing the door open to the store and allowing Jisung through.

Jisung didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, fine. Do you want your usual? I’m buying.”

Of course he’s buying. He’s about to ruin their friendship for good, it’s the least her can do. He caught Minho’s nod and stepped towards the ordering counter. Maybe he can just play it like he forgot what he had to say— that would annoy Minho, but it’s better than _not having_ a Minho.

He shoved ₩10,000 into the cashiers hand before scooping up both sundaes and turning around, looking to find Minho. He sat in their usual spot –as cliché as that sounds –, a booth by the window, sitting farthest away from the entrance door. Minho was scrolling through something on his phone, presumably Instagram, and only looked up once Jisung places his sundae in front of him.

“Ah. Thanks.” Minho took the plastic spoon Jisung held in front of him and dug it into the top scoop, mint choc chip. The ice-cream was quite cold (as you’d expect), to the point of it being hard. He hummed. “It’s a bit cold for ice-cream, don’t you think?”

From his place across from him, Jisung smiled and shook his head. “That’s impossible. Ice-cream is to be enjoyed in all weathers.”

Minho scoffed. “You won’t think that when it starts getting really cold.”

It was Autumn at the moment. It wasn’t much visible yet, but the cold change was there. At Jisung’s grandparents place the leaves were already turning into oranges and reds. Yet in his own neighbourhood, an hours drive away, they were only beginning to watch the deciduous trees turn into golden yellows. Jisung had begun to wear jumpers around the house. It wasn’t cold enough to waste money on the heating, but he found himself shivering whilst he sat at the kitchen table doing homework. 

Minho loved the cold – he always had. He enjoyed wearing massive puffy jackets and raved about the relief of a warm shower. His favourite part was bed. He loved sleeping underneath five blankets, tucking his shoulders beneath the covers and leaving his face to be traced with the cold air. He could spend weeks inside if he wanted, telling his friends to hang out at his home and letting his parents do the shopping on their own. They didn’t mind— in fact, Jisung knew they found it humorous. 

Jisung wasn’t a fan of the cold. But in the beginnings of the chill that was soon to settle over the neighbourhood, he had noticed how Minho’s nose and cheeks got red from staying outside too long. Jisung found it cute.

He scooped his spoon into his ice-cream, gathering a gross amount of chocolate sauce onto it as well. Shoveling it into his mouth, he looked up and caught eyes with Minho.

Minho was watching him, lips wrapped around the white spoon as he dragged it out of his mouth, making sure to catch all of the frozen treat on it. Jisung did the same, feeling unsettled with the older’s gaze. He watched Minho’s throat move as he swallowed, eyes dropping down for a fraction of a second to catch the motion beneath his skin. When his eyes flickered back up, Minho was ready to speak.

“What did you need to talk to me about?”

Ah. Jisung was hoping that maybe his presence was riveting enough for the older to forget. With Minho’s questioning he felt sick again, and regretted buying a sundae that he certainly could not finish whilst his nerves kept up like this.

“Oh. That—that, um.” Jisung’s voice shook. He knew it was obvious because Minho’s eyes furrowed and his hands twitched from where they lay on the table. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. R–really.”

He hated how unsure he sounded of himself. He wasn’t convincing anyone. Not himself, not the family in the booth behind him and certainly not Minho. 

“Jisung.” Minho’s tone – it was soft and sounded so careful. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

 _Not this,_ Jisung thought. _Anything but this._

He cleared his throat and dragged his hands under the table, clenching them over his thighs. “It’s really not important, I swear.”

“You wouldn’t have messaged me if it wasn’t important.” Minho pointed out, leaning over the table a bit more. It was unfair that he looked that nice against the ugly purple behind him.

Jisung clenched his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—.”

“Why are you so scared?” 

Jisung opened his eyes. His chest immediately clenched with an added feeling of guilt – Minho looked hurt. Jisung blinked, and the irrational side of his brain yearned to count all the different sparkles of light in Minho’s eyes. 

“I’m not—, I’m sorry.” Jisung could barely breathe at this point. Minho looked disappointed in his answer, and his hands began to shake against his leg. 

_I’m sorry. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry—_

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” Minho sighed a little, dragging his hands off of the table. “I skipped dance practise. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t think something was wrong.”

Jisung shook his head. “You shouldn’t have, you could’ve just said—.”

“Said ‘no’?” Minho retorted with a little bite to his tone, tilting his head to the left. “There’s something wrong. You’ve been distant for a couple of months now, and I feel a little selfish but I don’t like it. I’m worried, and I’m graduating soon. That means we won’t get to see much of each other and—. I just want to know why you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you! God, no.” Jisung brought his hands up, palms facing Minho. “I swear.”

“You are. Whether you’re doing it intentionally or not.” Minho huffed a little, slumping in his seat. 

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t _ever,_ Minho.” Jisung’s heart was beating so fast, his words came out slightly slurred at their urgency.

“It doesn’t matter, Sungie. We hang out, but I’m always the ones making plans – plans that you reject pretty often.” _Sungie._ “I’m not mad. I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Jisung and Minho locked eyes. The dancer brought his hands to the table, stretching his arms onto the surface and fiddling his spoon around in his fingers. Jisung looked away first, eyeing the way his ice-cream was softening around the cup, mixing in with the syrup. 

A beat. 

A breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

A beat.

A breath.

“What?”

Jisung looked up from his ice-cream. He saw a wide-eyed Minho. He watched as Minho’s eyes filled with regretful understanding, he watched as Minho’s lips twitched with lack of reply.

“Jisung.” Jisung was sixteen when he first fell in love. “Jisung. I’m— I’m so sorry.”

Jisung looked away. Minho’s hands curled tightly around his spoon in his peripheral. “It’s okay.”

“Jisung.” Minho was still in shock. 

Jisung picked up his sundae and stood from the booth. He didn’t bother looking back at Minho. The young child in the booth behind theirs caught his eyes, watching in curiosity as Jisung’s face set to stone. Jisung thinks that’s the first kid he hasn’t smiled at after catching their eyes.

It was cold outside – too cold for ice-cream. Jisung dumped his in the trash can halfway up the block, and he walked home. 

Jisung was sixteen when he first suffered a heartbreak. 

It wasn’t the type of heartbreak he saw in movies. He didn’t go home and cry himself to sleep, he didn’t think about how he must be worthless, he didn’t hug his mum because he was feeling vulnerable. Jisung just walked home and thought about nothing other than the lights that reflected into Minho’s eyes. When he arrived home he put on a hoodie because he was cold and searched through the cupboard for a packet of instant ramen. His parents got home, they had dinner at seven and Jisung went to bed afterwards. He didn’t receive a message from Minho that night.

He went to school the next day, he was completely fine. He met his friend Seungmin at the gates, and they travelled through the school to find their other friends. Jisung passed Minho – he laughed super loud at something Seungmin said and pretended he didn’t see the older. He doesn’t even know if Minho noticed him walking by. 

He and Minho didn’t speak again. Minho graduated, and Jisung turned his head away from the stage at the assembly. There was some graffiti on the wall, he found that more interesting than Minho’s grateful smile as he bowed to their principal. 

Jisung’s heart hurt to see Lee Minho smiling without him. But he would never admit that. 

 

↑

> **IMESSAGE:  
>  Unknown Number:** It’s Lee Minho, from high school. Can we meet up?  
>  _Sent 3:16PM_

Jisung set his latte down on the coffee table and grabbed his phone from its surface. Why was Lee Minho messaging him? Why now?

Jisung panicked – he always panics. His heart beat in low thumps as he read the messages through again, tapping his screen a couple of times to keep it awake. He puts the phone back onto the table. 

The blonde brings the mug in front of him to his lips again. He tries to think up an explanation for this – for why exactly his high school Not-So-Sweetheart was messaging him, a good six years after their last conversation. How did Minho even get his number? Jisung was sure none of his friends knew who Minho was, and the friendships he had made during high school had burnt out to nothing more than mutual follows on Instagram. 

Jisung had deleted Minho’s number when he was eighteen, a month after he graduated school. And from what he remembered, Minho would have too. He had a minimal contact list. At one point, Jisung could have sworn it was as exclusive as Minho’s parents, grandparents, Jisung and a close cousin.

Jisung switched between his mug and his phone again. He could just ignore it – but then it might be urgent, and Minho might call the number. Jisung always answers unknown numbers in case it’s an emergency. He decides it’s best to just play it as a wrong number. 

He opens iMessage.

> **Unknown Number:** Hey, Han Jisung?
> 
> It’s Lee Minho, from high school. Can we meet up?  
>  _Sent 3:16PM  
>  Read 3:22PM_
> 
> i think you have the wrong number
> 
> sorry _Sent 3:22PM_

Jisung hesitates, locks his phone and returns to his latte. _That was weird._

He expects Minho to quickly apologise and not message again. He resists the urge to look at his phone when it buzzes on the table, instead gulping at his drink which had now turned to a comfortable warm heat.

His phone buzzes a second time, and Jisung looks before he can stop himself.

> **IMESSAGE:**  
>  Unknown Number: Jisung, I know this is your number.  
>  _Sent 3:23PM_  
>  **Unknown Number:** Please? Just a coffee.  
>  _Sent 3:24PM_

Jisung ignores it. He finishes his latte and gathers his things.

He doesn’t look at his phone all the way home, opting to leave his earphones tangled in the pocket of his jacket. It hadn’t begun to rain again yet, so Jisung took to abusing the head of his umbrella – tapping it onto the pavement with every step. 

He reached his apartment, he fitted the key into the lock on the first try. He tosses said keys onto the bench in the hallway once he entered, kicking off his shoes and placed them neatly onto the provided rack by the door. Changbin’s favourite Converses were missing from the space, he must have gone out to meet with a friend. When Jisung straightened up, his knees cracked loudly. He paid no mind, walking towards his bedroom.

He collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep, trying to forget about Lee Minho.

 

↓

 

“How is Minho? I haven’t seen him in a while.” His mother asked, a sad twinge in her tone. Jisung’s father nodded and turned to Jisung, lacing his hands together as his elbows rested against the table.

“I don’t know. We don’t hang out anymore.” Jisung tried to hold back the bite in his tone. He reached forward and collected a mass of japchae between his chopsticks, messily transferring it to his plate.

“Oh? I thought you just didn’t see much of each other.” His mum scooped some kimchi onto his plate as she spoke.

“Yeah, sort of. I don’t know.” Jisung began to eat, not bothering to wait. “He’s busy with work and university. You know.”

“Ah, yes.” His dad spoke up, still filling his own plate. “He’s a hard worker.”

Jisung just nodded and continued eating, waiting for another conversation to arise. He was particularly touchy about Minho lately. He had seen him for the first time in a while, at an underground club nearby. 

Jisung isn’t one to go to underground parties, but it’s the only way he can see his favourite rapper live (and he can’t resist his foreign friend’s begging, it was a new experience to them). Minho was there, but he didn’t see Jisung at all during the night. The younger tried to act unbothered, but he couldn’t help the drag of his eyes to Minho throughout the time he spent there – especially when Minho was pinned to the wall by someone Jisung recognised to attend the same dance company. 

He hates to admit it, but it made him angry. Angry, and _oh so_ jealous. He hadn’t seen Minho in two years– and the first time he blesses Jisung’s eyes after rejecting his confession is when Lee Juyeon has his mouth all over his neck. Minho looks so pretty under the pink neon lights lining the walls of the basement. His hair falls clumped onto his forehead with sweat, and it sheens under the glow – Jisung figures he’s been dancing. Minho’s lips are parted, and his eyes are fluttering closed. His chest rises and falls in deep motions, finger-tips clawing into Juyeon’s hair as his body gently rolls in time with the music. Jisung stops staring when he notices Juyeon’s thigh pressing between Minho’s, he pretends he saw nothing. No, he pretends he doesn’t know Lee Minho, and never has. 

Jisung makes out with his foreign friend, Felix, that night. He scrapes his teeth along his jaw and kisses the Australian until his lips feel bruised. He’s slightly adrenaline buzzed, and he blames many things on that. A couple of those being 1) him kissing Felix, and 2) him dazedly imagining it was Minho’s waist in his grip instead of the foreigner. He walks Felix home after they watch his favourite rapper. They don’t flirt, they don’t hold hands, and they certainly don’t kiss goodbye. But they’re still great friends after that – which Jisung is quite thankful for.

When Jisung sleeps, he dreams of Minho. Minho smiling at him in the morning, and reaching to pull Jisung closer as they both lie in the comfort of clean, white sheets. Jisung wakes up from the dream, groaning at his stupidity. Yet, amazingly, he forgets about Minho for the rest of the day. Rest of the week even. Jisung thinks it’s his mind consciously blocking the boy out, and he’s honestly grateful. 

Jisung’s parents don’t ask about Minho again – aside from distant mentions of running into his parents at a function, or in the supermarket. Jisung is grateful for this too, because finally there’s no one to remind him of Lee Minho except for Lee Minho himself. 

 

↑

 

“Stop eating like that. You look disgusting.”

Jisung glanced up from his bowl to find Seo Changbin glaring at him with a displeased face. Jisung just shrugged and continued slurping at the carbonara he was eating. Being the youngest of the two, he was often accused of being a brat. He always denied it, but deep down he knew it was true. Plus, Changbin really didn’t mind much. He’d grown up an only child who had always wanted a sibling, and Jisung was the closest to that he had. Maybe he let Jisung act up too much sometimes, but he knew the younger only did it to annoy him.

“‘-Yung,” Jisung spoke after three mouthfuls, his lips overflowing with pasta. “Ca’you paf ma foe.”

Changbin looked up, horrified with the gross amount of food in Jisung’s mouth. “Your what?”

“Ma foe!” Jisung exclaimed, coming a bit too close to spitting out his food for Changbin’s comfort. 

He picked up on the twenty-two year olds exaggerated gesturing to the end of the table and finally got the picture. “Oh! Your phone!”

He didn’t see Jisung nod, too busy standing up a bit from his seat to drag the phone closer. Once he did, the screen lit up – he must have accidentally pressed a button. Changbin’s brows furrowed at the notifications from an unknown number but slid the phone to Jisung anyway.

“Who’s that messaging you?” He questioned, returning to eating. 

Jisung picked up the phone with the hand he wasn’t using to eat, Minho’s unopened messages glowing on the screen. He wanted to groan and make a fuss, but the sane part of his brain told him it wasn’t worth the bother. He didn’t want Changbin thinking it was important. 

“Someone from high school.” Cramming more food into his mouth, he’d hoped Changbin would drop it.

“A friend? What do they want?” Inside Jisung’s head, he’d already walked out of the room. Unfortunately, his line of vision was still full of Changbin’s dumb-looking head tilt.

“They just–,” Jisung swallowed the remnants of food in his mouth. “He just wants to meet up for coffee.”

“Oh? Why haven’t you replied?”

“Didn’t have time.” The blonde quipped back, reaching to grab his glass of water on the table.

Changbin scoffed a little, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “You’re the most compulsive texter I know. It kills you inside to have any notifications just staying there.”

He was right, Jisung was like that. But right now Jisung wanted nothing more than to not answer to Changbin’s prying.

“I’ll reply to him after dinner, then. Happy, hyung?” He had a rude tone and he knew it. Changbin let it slide, he knew he was pestering.

A moment passed. “So, are you gonna have coffee with him—?”

“For the love of god, Changbin. Please.”

Changbin just laughed and changed the topic of conversation, allowing Jisung to once again leave Minho from his mind. 

After Jisung had returned to the comforts of his room however, he was faced once again with Minho’s messages. He collapsed onto his bed, deeply inhaling the cotton smell of his sheets as he lay there. Thinking about Minho upset him more than he imagined it would if he was being completely honest. He was flooded with various memories: he and Minho laughing while watching shitty films when he was fourteen, him comforting Minho when his mother got into a car accident, Minho driving him to Seoul for a creative writing workshop. Himself, crying alone in his bedroom when Minho moved to Busan for his university, despite the fact that hadn’t spoken in a year and a half. 

He knew he should just ignore the messages and hope Minho wouldn’t send any more.

Jisung’s phone vibrated from where he’d thrown it on the bed. He stretched out a hand to grip into the device, bringing it a bit too close to his face.

> **Unknown Number:** Just once, I’ll buy? I really need to talk to you.  
>  _Sent 10:38PM_

Jisung sighed – Minho was persistent. He could just block him, but it seemed harsh. He never really hated Minho, just the thought of him made him upset. After all, you can’t force someone to love you, even if you loved them infinitely.

Jisung hated things like this – inconveniences where you can’t find a reason to make it seem better. He kept on thinking about how maybe it would be good to reconnect, but he’d be swamped by memories of why they were disconnected in the first place. He should get over it, he was dumb and he was sixteen. But Jisung can’t help but feel the ache that squeezes his chest when he looks at those messages. Minho still texts with perfect punctuation, just like usual. _Usual._

He unlocked his phone.

> **Unknown Number:** Please? Just a coffee.  
>  _Sent 3:24PM_
> 
> Just once, I’ll buy? I really need to talk to you.  
>  _Sent 10:38PM  
>  Read 10:40PM_
> 
> okay, just once
> 
> where do you want to meet up? _Sent 10:41PM_


	2. A Dick Move (And a Half)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t k–know if you still like cheesecake but—.” Minho took a seat, placing his forearms onto the white table and interlacing his fingers. “The drinks will take a while anyway.”
> 
> Jisung spluttered, looking to the cheesecake and Minho’s face in a way that was almost comical. “You didn’t have to—.”
> 
> “I know I didn’t. Have you eaten since breakfast?” Minho finally met his eyes, and Jisung was thrown a curveball.

Jisung was hyper aware of the stain on his peachy toned sweater. It was the size of a coriander seed, looming right over his left pectoral in an ugly red–brown colour. Jisung was also stressing about the weather, particularly how the wind was blowing directly into his chestnut coloured hair – for all he knows, it was ruining the twenty minutes of styling he had put into it. At least his skin was surprisingly clear for the first time in a while, and he knew for a fact that the cologne he had received for his last birthday smelled subtly immaculate.

He didn’t care for his appearance very often. Jisung preferred to live a life with as much sleeping as possible, even if that meant half the time his hair looked a mess. Today was different though, because the brunet was currently walking a steady fifteen minutes to meet Lee Minho – ex best friend and former object of Jisung’s sixteen year old self’s love. It was quite daunting really, especially when the twenty-two year old still felt uncomfortable with even the thought of Minho entering his mind.

Deep down, he knew he was trying to look good to show Minho something. Jisung didn’t exactly know what that something was— maybe a moment of _Look What You Missed Out On_ or possibly a _I’m Doing So Well Without You. _He knew he looked quite presentable too, more so than usual, because Changbin had asked him if he was going on a date before he walked out the door of their shared apartment.__

__Jisung had tossed and turned the whole of the previous night – he thought about all the good things that could come out of this meeting. One, he could achieve some sort of closure, it was difficult to really get over Lee Minho when he never actually saw the guy. Two, maybe they could get on speaking terms again, and they would go straight back to their silly conversations like in high school. Three, he would get a free coffee, something that was hard to refuse. Four, he wouldn’t suffer from curiosity at what ever happened to Minho. He had another thought, a fifth, that began with a small sliver of hope that maybe their friendship would develop into something a little— Jisung cut that fantasy off. It wasn’t something he wanted. He wanted to show his independence, how far he’d gotten in life after being rejected by his best friend. He wanted to show that Minho hadn’t affected him, even if that wasn’t the case behind his physical guard._ _

__So yes, Jisung was uncharacteristically worried about the small stain on his jumper. He was worried about what it would represent about him as a person, what it would tell Minho about him. And he definitely didn’t want his hair to be a mess either._ _

__But then, he walked through the door of the cafe, bell at the top of the door jingling and a sweet caramel scent surrounding him. Jisung was adjusting the strap of his (useless) accessory bag to cover his stain when he met eyes with Lee Minho, sitting a mere three tables away. The brunet realised this was going to be a lot more awkward than anticipated._ _

__Minho stood, a tiny grimace of a smile dancing across his lips as he walked over to Jisung. He seemed to hesitate, not really knowing what to do, before he held his hand out for the younger to take. “Hey, Jisung. Thanks for coming. What drink would you like?”_ _

__Jisung shook Minho’s hand, raising an eyebrow at the well-rehearsed line that fell from the older’s mouth. “Hey, chai latte. Please.”_ _

__Old Minho would have laughed – lightly and mostly through his nose – before telling Jisung he should get a real drink instead. Maybe he’d throw in a comment about having to _stop the whole hipster act._ This Minho just nodded softly and shimmied past Jisung and through the gaps between the other tables. _ _

__Jisung walks and sits down, his heart already beating out of his chest at such simple conversation (if you could call it a conversation, even. Probably more of an introductory exchange). He was surprised to say the least – Minho wasn’t what he had expected. Possibly his job or school was pushing him too far, but he didn’t seem nearly as presentable as past Minho would have liked to be. Dressed in black jeans and a grey sweatshirt, covered in more than just one flecks of ugly grease stains, he looked tired. His black hair was oily – to the point where it clumped up and shined under the light in a way that didn’t seem healthy. The bags under his eyes were harder to ignore than the blemishes tainting his tan skin. What skin Jisung once knew to be perfectly and permanently moisturised was now gleaming with a perfect ‘T’ of natural oil, and it seems like he hadn’t gotten sleep in weeks._ _

__Jisung found that he wasn’t much worrying about the stain on his jumper anymore. He removed his bag and brought a hand to his hair, ruffling it slightly – ridding it off the way the air outside had knotted it. It wasn’t long until Minho returned, placing a plate in front of Jisung with a gorgeously dressed slice of cheesecake._ _

__The brunet looked up, slightly shocked with his lips parted – allowing his front teeth to show in the space between them._ _

__“I don’t k–know if you still like cheesecake but—.” Minho took a seat, placing his forearms onto the white table and interlacing his fingers. “The drinks will take a while anyway.”_ _

__Jisung spluttered, looking to the cheesecake and Minho’s face in a way that was almost comical. “You didn’t have to—.”_ _

__“I know I didn’t. Have you eaten since breakfast?” Minho finally met his eyes, and Jisung was thrown a curveball._ _

__He was tempted to pinch himself, to wake himself up from what had to be a dream. Six years since he’d spoken to Minho. Six years since he’d heard his soft, velvety tone – six years since he’d seen Minho this close. Six years since Minho had looked into his eyes like he was doing now, and he was unexpectedly overwhelmed with all kinds of memories he didn’t intend on revisiting. It seems this meeting was turning out to be more difficult than he initially thought._ _

__

__↓_ _

__

__Jisung was crying an embarrassing amount for being in public. The playground he’d met Minho at was relatively empty, though he couldn’t help but feel ashamed by the endless flow of tears falling down his cheeks._ _

__“Jisung.” Minho called, a hand rubbing up and down Jisung’s back in a comforting manner. “Please talk to me?”_ _

__The younger couldn’t, he was too busy sniffling intensively to avoid having to grossly wipe away the snot at the brims of his nose. His cheeks felt raw – Jisung had been rubbing the tears off of them for a while now, the sleeves of his jacket irritating the skin more than it should have._ _

__Minho sighed, bringing the arm that was rubbing Jisung’s back to wrap around his shoulders – pulling the boy closer to him as he brainstormed what to do. Jisung had been like this since before Minho arrived, babbling incoherent sentences through his tears the older could only endeavour to understand. So Minho just sat there, gently rocking Jisung back and forth as he talked about trivial things – the moon, his half-deaf chemistry teacher, the new restaurant near his house. Jisung didn’t reply, but that didn’t worry Minho because he could feel the boy calming down anyway. His sniffs were less frequent, and he was no longer bringing his hands (adorned with the sleeves of his jacket) up to wipe his cheeks free of tears._ _

__“—It looks good, we should go sometime. I read the menu and they have a few things that I think you’d like. Maybe if you’re nice to me for the rest of the week I’ll treat you and we—.”_ _

__“Minho?” Minho stopped talking and pulled away a little, smiling at the vulnerable looking Jisung._ _

__“Ah, finally ending my one-sided conversation. Took you long enough – ever so cruel, Jisung—.”_ _

__“My parents. They said I have to move.” Jisung’s voice was shaking, but his statement was clear and firm. Minho’s heart stopped for a moment, before picking up again at a higher speed than before._ _

__“Move?” His brain tried to make up excuses as to why Jisung would be so sad. Surely it would only be a couple of neighbourhoods away. “Ah, finally. I know you hated that house.”_ _

__Jisung could sense clearly the uncertainty in Minho’s tone, and the tense aura surrounding his obviously forced bout of laughter at the end of his words. The tears began flowing again, pouring freely out of his eyes. Jisung’s head was throbbing with an unpleasant mix of dehydration and emotional exhaustion._ _

__With the younger’s lack of reply, Minho spoke again. “Will you be changing schools? Because if so, it’s okay. I’ll still drive you there if you want, and come pick you up after you finish if you need it, too.”_ _

__“Minho.” Jisung tried, his heart weighing heavily in his chest. Stomach swirling with a discomfort Jisung hadn’t felt before in his fifteen years of living._ _

__“It’s okay, I really don’t mind.” Minho replied back just as quick. It seemed as if he was trying to block out the truth that was inevitably coming, eyes travelling from Jisung’s figure to the piles of wood chips surrounding the playground._ _

__“You can’t drive me.” The brunet supplied, hoping for Minho to take the hint._ _

__Jisung could feel his friends body deflate due to their proximity. Minho’s hold around his shoulders loosened and one of his knees had begun bouncing out of a nervous habit he’d acquired when he was younger._ _

__“How far is it? I can still visit on weekends, and even then you can come back here for university. It’ll be fine—.”_ _

__“Malaysia.” Jisung cut Minho off, fists clenching in his lap. “My parents want me to move to Malaysia.”_ _

__It was as if the earth had tipped on its axis for Minho._ _

__“Malaysia?” Minho hadn’t really heard too much about the country. Despite the relatively close proximity of South Korea and the foreign place, not many opportunities to learn about it arised. His friends that had studied in places overseas always disappeared to America or Japan, a few scattered in Australia with a permanency – Malaysia never entered that list._ _

__“They want me there to study.” Jisung said, pulling away from Minho to face him properly._ _

__Jisung always had a hard time reading Minho – he wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, unlike the younger. By now, Jisung and Minho had been friends for about four and a half years, and Jisung was pretty confident he could pick up all of Minho’s little ticks. When Minho was getting annoyed, he’d bring a hand to his head and part his hair to the left side – differing his standard part on the right. When Minho was upset, he’d hold his breath for some time before exhaling – Jisung could see the way his shoulders moved with his chest. When Minho was nervous he’d blink a lot less than usual – determined to take in any extra information he could with his eyes._ _

__For the first time in a long while, Jisung didn’t need to search for these personal habits._ _

__Minho had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, making the flesh turn white around the points of contact. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were clearly shining with tears. Jisung hadn’t ever seen him look as vulnerable as he looked at this point, and it almost made him feel guilty for telling Minho the news._ _

__“When?” The older asked, choked sound escaping in a rushed manner. Jisung closed his eyes and moved back into Minho’s embrace._ _

__

__↑_ _

__

__“No,” Jisung answered Minho softly, eyes holding his for a moment longer before glancing down to the plate. “No, I haven’t. Thank you.”_ _

__Jisung picked up the dessert fork next to the cake and dug it into the soft cream, clink of the metal meeting the plate mixed perfectly with the other sounds filling the small cafe. Bringing the sweet to his lips, he paused, glancing at Minho who was fiddling with his fingers on the table. Jisung carefully spoke, “So, what’s been up with you?”_ _

__Minho looked up, only just catching Jisung stuffing his face with the cake. “Oh. Yeah, I’ve been pretty good.”_ _

__Jisung nodded, swallowing the cake. “Did you finish university?”_ _

__“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Minho replied, small smile breaching his lips. “A fair few years ago now, though.”_ _

__Jisung resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _We haven’t spoken in well over a few years, do you expect me to know?_ Minho opened his mouth before he could awkwardly question again._ _

__“What about you? Did you go to university?” He’d stopped fiddling with his fingers at this point and moved to ripping tiny shreds into the serviette in front of him._ _

__“Yeah– A biology course. I dropped out though.” Jisung grimaced a little, worried about the impression that might have made on Minho._ _

__“Ah, cool. You never liked science.” Jisung paused._ _

__Despite the fact Minho was very well correct, Jisung couldn’t help but feel offended. Not because it was _bad_ to not like sciences – but because Minho had had the audacity to bring up some old facts about old Jisung and make some stupid assumption about something he knew absolutely nothing about. That thing that Minho knew absolutely nothing about happened to be Jisung post the age of 16._ _

__Another thing was that Jisung was actually quite sensitive to his dropping out of university, as it was a difficult thing to do – and even after it all he’s unsure as to whether or not it was the right decision. He didn’t appreciate people thinking he dropped out because he _a)_ got bored _b)_ was too dumb or _c)_ was lazy. These were most of the popular beliefs, and Minho’s little response sounded similar to all three. _ _

__Though Jisung didn’t see himself as an overly bitter person, he chose to let it go. Though it was undeniable that the next question he asked had some bite to the tone._ _

__“So, how did you get my number?”_ _

__It was time for Minho to pause, shoulders visibly tensing. It seems that even after six years, Jisung couldn’t shake the habit of glancing to Minho’s shoulders for answers of what the other was feeling, and how he was reacting._ _

__“I really needed to message you. I’m sorry if it seemed sudden.” He said, recovering from the slight shake in his tone by the end of his words._ _

__“I asked how you got my number, not why.” Jisung could tell he sounded harsh, but at this point he didn’t really care. Any time he thought about Minho he found himself becoming annoyed. Maybe it was more prominent after their little non-encounter-encounter in the underground club, while Jisung was with that Felix boy and Minho was being felt up by his dance classmate. Jisung didn’t want to know._ _

__Minho opened his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at Jisung’s irritated tone spilling through his sentence. A pretty girl with copper coloured hair (clearly a bad dye job, but she made it look okay) approached the table, two saucers with cups placed on top of them being held precariously in her untrained hands._ _

__“Long black?” Her voice was softly questioning, but her hand that was holding said coffee was already travelling towards Minho who was smiling up at her – his usual way of order confirmation. “And you had a chai latte?”_ _

__She turned to Jisung, who nodded, struggling out a smile which was still being held down by the confines of a tense conversation. The girl left with a classic customer service smile and Jisung once again averted his eyes towards Minho. Said male was currently bringing his drink away from his mouth, licking over his bottom lip after his throat bobbed when he swallowed. He placed his mug back into the small circle in the saucer in front of him before pursing his lips a little._ _

__He met Jisung’s eyes. “I didn’t really need to get it. Your number– it was in my phone already.”_ _

__Jisung squinted at the black haired boy, hands coming to wrap around his own mug. “Okay,” He said, lifting his drink up and resting his elbows on the table. “Why didn’t you delete it?”_ _

__The younger took a swig of his drink, carefully watching Minho with lidded eyes as he did so. “Why would I? You don’t delete all your numbers.”_ _

__Minho sounded as if he was growing defensive. Jisung put his mug down and picked up the dessert fork, prodding at the almost forgotten cheesecake with it. “Yeah, I don’t. But I most definitely deleted yours.”_ _

__Jisung had always had a creative mind – imagining things and exaggerating situations to give him any kind of gain. This is why he immediately envisioned Minho as a Looney Tunes character when his eyes widened. Jisung could just imagine the dark brown eyes popping out of his head with a classic animation style, added effect of his jaw dropping to the floor joining the mental image._ _

__Real Minho was thankful he hadn’t drank from his coffee when Jisung let those bitey words slip, because he would have most definitely choked a little bit on the hot bitterness of it. Jisung said nothing more and picked up the dessert fork from its plate, fixating his eyes on the cheesecake there and stabbing the fork into it._ _

__“I—,” Minho struggled to decide on what to say. “I’m sorry if I offended you? I just didn’t think to delete it.”_ _

__The questioning lilt in his sentence was enough to offend someone in itself. It was said in the way he’d heard bitchy white girls use it in many chick-flicks that Minho was surely guilty of watching. Jisung wasn’t even slightly offended though, he was confident that in a battle of words he would win – where Minho was witty with his comebacks, Jisung was almost too accurate in how he structured his insults._ _

__“Anyway,” Jisung began, speaking with an exasperated sigh. “It doesn’t matter. What did you need?”_ _

__Minho decided to drop the phone number conversation with Jisung’s topic switch, though he still felt a little stung by Jisung’s words. An added feeling was a slight colour of embarrassment where he had obviously let onto Jisung how much he’d _cared_ where the youngest was very quick to shut down any lingering friendly feelings for Minho. Maybe he shouldn’t have messaged Jisung, it was a stupid idea anyway. Possibly he could play it off as if he’d forgotten what he wanted to say anyway. He cursed himself for not sending the message later at night, maybe then he could blame it on a wild night of drinking and dares. _ _

__“Right.” Minho said, lips pressing together in a firm line. “I need some advice.”_ _

__Jisung’s head tilted to the left and he raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “Advice? On what?”_ _

__The brunet watched carefully as Minho but his lip, and he could feel the slight tremble of the table which instantly gave away the bouncing of the older’s leg underneath it. Minho realised what a bad idea this was – all with Jisung’s obvious hostility towards him. Besides, it’s not like what he was asking wasn’t completely awkward and kind of immoral._ _

__“Well—.” He paused. How exactly should he phrase it? “It’s just—. I probably need to give you some background information.”_ _

__Jisung squinted his eyes a little – clearly unsure as to where the conversation was heading. Despite this, he nodded, a small _Alright then_ slipping from his lips as his hands curled around his latte once more. _ _

__Minho gulped. “There’s this guy.” He didn’t notice the way Jisung rolled his eyes because he was staring intensely at his hands._ _

__“His name’s Woojin. He went to my university and we—. Well we roomed since my first year, which was his second, and we got really close. He’s really nice, we fit well together.” Minho looked up to gage Jisung’s reaction to anything he was saying, but was only met with the boy picking at the almost finished cheesecake. “We were practically best friends. Even after he graduated and I was still at uni, we got a place together with really cheap rent – we‘re still there. Well, we were still there.”_ _

__Jisung was thinking all through Minho’s story – wondering what this could possibly be about, and wishing himself to stop being so jealous of a guy he didn’t know being close to a guy he didn’t care about. Minho continued on. “I—, _fuck this is embarrassing._ I fell in love with him.”_ _

__Jisung coughed a little, red crawling up his neck because that really _was_ embarrassing to hear, let alone say. He kept his eyes down and waited for Minho to finish. _ _

__Minho brushed a hand through his hair, willing away the red on his cheeks as he kept speaking. “I was stupid, and I thought he liked me too. I just got confident one day and I confessed. Oh god, I confessed and it was a really dumb way of confessing. We were just eating dinner and I straight up told him I loved him— oh fuck it was so embarrassing.”_ _

__Jisung started twitching awkwardly in his seat. This wasn’t exactly pleasant to listen too, especially since Minho had practically just described Jisung’s friendship-ending confession._ _

__“And he was nice about it. He said no, and he was so sweet and I just— I felt so bad because everything became awkward. And it’s only been a month since and I’ve already moved out to ‘become more independent’—” Minho lifted his hands up beside his head to mime quotation marks around the words. “Or whatever I told him, I can’t remember.”_ _

__Jisung watched as Minho brought his hands to his face and groaned softly. He’d noticed how red the black haired man’s face was, but he was unsure as to whether it was because of embarrassment or frustration. Minho was silent for a short while before Jisung opened his mouth to speak._ _

__“So,” he paused, mostly because he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. “You messaged me because?”_ _

__Minho lifted his face from his hands, eyes gleaming with guilt as he spoke. “I need advice from you about— god this is _such_ a dick move. I need to know how you got over me.”_ _

__Jisung’s jaw dropped. “You’re right. That is a dick move.” He spoke defensively before he really thought anything through. He felt like leaving, though he didn’t make a move to stand from his seat – only sat there staring at Minho in disbelief._ _

__“I know—,” there was a slight whine to Minho’s tone, something Jisung had forgotten about but sounded ever so familiar in his ears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you but I’m just…”_ _

__He trailed off, trying to meet Jisung’s eyes before giving up and staring at the jar filled with sugar that was set on the table. “Half the time I can’t even get out of bed. I barely even see him anymore – when he tries to make plans I just make up an excuse that I’m busy but I haven’t gone out in weeks aside from grocery shopping and—.”_ _

__Jisung gulps down the remainder of his drink. He wishes it was still hot, just so he could feel the burn of it and maybe it would snap him out of whatever crazy dream he must be having. He stared expectantly at Minho after he’d done so. Minho looked like the embodiment of unsure at that moment in time – he held a grimace on his face that screamed _should I say this?__ _

__“You seemed fine after I–, well, after you—, I don’t know. You know what I mean anyway. I don’t know why I’m not okay, I don’t understand how to get over someone. I figured I’d ask for advice from the only person I know that did it successfully.” Minho bit down on his lip again, clearly knowing how badly he’d worded his odd request._ _

__Between them it was silent for a long while. Minho tentatively took a sip from his drink whilst Jisung scrutinised him with a strong gaze. Minho was panicking to the point were it seemed even his pupils were trembling inside of his dark brown irises. This was a bad idea. He could leave now, stand and walk out of the cafe. Jisung wouldn’t call him back, and Minho would delete his number like he should have done six years ago._ _

__Minho heard Jisung exhale steadily through his nostrils. “How do you know I got over you successfully?”_ _

__Minho blinked twice before morphing his face into a confused expression. Jisung spoke again before he could. “If I remember correctly, we didn’t have any contact after I confessed to you. So, how do you know?”_ _

__Jisung’s gaze was piercing, penetrating Minho’s conscience more so than anything he’d experienced. “Well—, I just—.”_ _

__Jisung scoffed openly at the stutters. “You just what? You assumed because you never saw me cry? Or was it the way I didn’t pathetically chase after you that gave it away? You know, it’s even bold to assume I _actually_ loved you in the first place. I was sixteen, at that age I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life!”_ _

__Minho’s eyes widened as his voice raised, alerting the attention of a couple sat on the table next to theirs. Jisung laughed through his nose, slumping back in his seat. He wanted to cross his arms over his chest like a child but resisted the urge. When Jisung looked up from the table back to Minho’s face, he was shocked to see the tears brimming in his eyes. Minho was quick to look away, though – fisting his hands on the cool surface below them._ _

__“You never—,” he choked up, hands pulling off of the table to tug at his grotty sweatshirt. “You never even looked my way after– after you—.”_ _

__Jisung was horrified to see a few tears slipping from Minho’s eyes as he spoke. His mouth parted and his hands twitched – they wanted to do something, he just didn’t know what. The couple on the table beside them were hurriedly trying to finish their coffees, the girl sitting there was not so subtly sending Jisung disappointed glances upon seeing Minho’s state._ _

__“I thought you—. You never—.” Minho struggled to form full sentences, eyes clenching shut to stop the salty tears stinging his eyes._ _

__Jisung took a deep breath. “You thought what?” His voice sounded pathetic, soft and barely there. Such contrast to what it was earlier, though it seemed all previous anger had dissipated after seeing how Minho had reacted._ _

__Minho’s bottom lip quivered. “I thought you didn’t want to speak to me.”_ _

__“You’re the one that rejected me—.” Jisung pointed out, but was sharply cut off by an even more emotional Minho. The couple next to them were standing from their chairs and leaving._ _

__“I didn’t want to reject you! Do you think I wanted to make you feel like shit? You were my _best friend,_ Jisung.” Minho picked up his phone from the table. “I’m sorry for messaging you.”_ _

__Jisung watched at Minho stood from the table, eyes set on his chair as he roughly pushed it into place. Jisung wanted to stop Minho, but it seemed he was stuck watching as the older walked away – back out of his life, probably never to return._ _

__A beat._ _

__A breath._ _

__Jisung stood, collecting his things haphazardly and failing to push in his chair. His feet carried him out of the cafe, hot on Minho’s trail – not faltering even as he painfully banged his thigh on the corner of a table on the way. Pushing the door open he jogged around an elderly couple before he was behind Minho, feet barely keeping up with the older’s determined strides._ _

__A beat._ _

__A breath._ _

__“Minho!” Jisung called, but he received no reply other then a falter in pace. Minho kept walking. “Minho, wait.”_ _

__Minho didn’t wait. Jisung sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket and pulling his stupid accessory bag around his neck. His feet skipped just once, struggling to maintain a pace similar to Minho’s. He called once more, to no avail, so he reached out an arm. Hand curling around Minho’s shoulder, he pulled, effectively making the man stumble and turn back to face Jisung. The fabric of his sweatshirt became bunches as Jisung clenched his hand, a subconscious decision in attempt to hold Minho where he was._ _

__“Just— just wait!” Jisung was staring at the cement beneath their feet when he spoke, breathing heavily as his mind clouded and cleared repetitively. He sort of felt like he was going to pass out, but he was assured that wouldn’t happen somehow._ _

__Minho stayed silent. “I’ll help you— or at least, I’ll try.”_ _

__Jisung didn’t know why he agreed. Maybe he was feeling pitiful of the Minho in front of him that had failed to wipe the crust from the inner corners of his eyes. Mostly, he knew it was a feeling he was going to ignore and pretend didn’t exist. The fear – fear of never seeing Minho again. Despite his want to stay away from the older, being reunited with him had sparked something back within Jisung. He always had felt drawn to him, but the feeling had just increased massively and he didn’t understand how to react._ _

__His eyes travelled up, searching Minho’s face as it broke into a gentle smile._ _

__

__↓_ _

__

__Jisung always expected heartbreak to be a pivotal moment in his life – something that played a massive part in his future. This turned out to be incorrect._ _

__Of course there was the shame and the guilt, along with utmost embarrassment. But Jisung thinks he did not feel any different than he would losing a friend. That’s essentially what he had done, though – lost a friend. He and Minho were never anything more than friends._ _

__When Jisung arrived at school the next day he promptly avoided Minho. They refused to make eye contact during the day and the younger had become particularly good at looking like he was extremely busy at all times. That, or he acted as if his friends were the centre of the universe and did not even see the rest of the world around him. He could still sense when Minho was around, and every time he envisioned the boy near he would shiver out of nervousness – it was as if he was being watched. Minho did not attempt to speak to him; his path was never clear to Jisung anyway, multiples of Jisung’s younger friends stood in the way. The rare times he saw Jisung alone, the said boy would play out his normal schemes and run around like he had lots to do. It was a never ending cycle of non-communication._ _

__They managed to ignore it, and Minho gave up attempts at reconciliation. It got to a point where neither of them really felt anything towards the situation – aside from the small times they would think of each other, or take notice of one another, where they would feel a slight sting in the chest and an anxious lurch. Both decided that playing it out as if nothing had happened was the way to go._ _

__Minho told no one of what Jisung had done, or more so, said. It was not his intention to embarrass him or have his friends make fun of him (which, unfortunately, he knew would happen one way or another). Jisung lived in constant fear of walking past Minho’s friends and having things like _lover boy_ called out to him, senses of relief washing over him when nothing of the sort occurred. Jisung had spoken to a few friends about his predicament; their curiosity had piqued and Jisung felt it was only right to allow them the knowledge. They all smiled sympathetically, some calling Minho an idiot, and spoke no more about it. When peers outside Jisung’s immediate circle asked, his friends would tell them they either didn’t know or it wasn’t their business. Jisung was grateful for this, for the way they handled the situation, yet he couldn’t help the regretful trains of thought that showed him a future where all of this wasn’t necessary. A future where Minho was there, easily accessible and not one to be avoided._ _

__The year crawled on slowly, and Minho’s influence on the school had become suffocating. He’d make speeches at assemblies often and visit roll-calls to take donations for various charities and organisations. Jisung’s stomach always swirled with an unpleasant feeling when this happened, eyes staying glued his eyes to anything other than Minho’s face. Focusing on the sounds his breathing would make instead of the older boy’s voice. His presence seemed to pin him down and debilitate him, though Jisung would never admit it. Each day passed with a veil – one that hid how Jisung really hadn’t forgotten Lee Minho. He hadn’t forgotten his feelings, nor their friendship. Sometimes late at night he would yearn for their friendship again, cursing himself for being so stupid as to confess. But what he had done was irreversible, and he was stubborn, too. He would never tell a soul he missed Lee Minho, he would never expose his wound to the open._ _

__Minho graduated without so much as a word to Jisung, and Jisung slowly forgot about him. Sure, there were fleeting thoughts that made an uncomfortable feeling settle in Jisung’s stomach but there was nothing to fear as he never saw Minho. The whole thing deterred him from ever confessing to someone again, though this was not a problem. Jisung hadn’t felt romantic feelings past attraction since his experience with Minho._ _

__

__↑_ _

__

__They met again about a week later, at a diner of Minho’s choice. Jisung was still incredibly nervous, and Changbin had once again asked if he was going on a date. He had replied with a rolling of his eyes and a monotonous _I’m seeing a friend._ Friend. It felt foreign on his tongue and filled his mind with uncomfortable questions on where exactly he and Minho stood now. He was uncertain if he could call Minho a friend yet, but the term _acquaintance_ seemed offensive to the long past they held together. Either way, no matter where their complex relationship stood, meeting up with Minho again was nerve-wracking._ _

__Jisung was already at a table when Minho arrived. He had been watching as the street lights outside slowly began to turn on as the natural light dimmed, sun dipping behind buildings and an invisible horizon. He was startled from his daze when the scraping of a chair across from him sounded to his ears._ _

__“Hey.” Minho said, quietly, not meeting Jisung’s eyes._ _

__“Hey.” Jisung replied, looking over Minho’s figure as he sat down and got comfortable in his chair._ _

__After a couple of awkward smiles, a waiter arrived at their table asking for drink orders. Minho cut in front of Jisung’s already opening mouth, wracking off a ridiculous order of soju, effectively forcing the simple order of Coca-Cola die on Jisung’s tongue._ _

__Jisung raised an eyebrow to Minho in question. He got a basic response._ _

__“If we’re going to do this, I know at least _I_ need to be drunk.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry this took so long i may have uploaded the first chap just before exam season began 👉👈 but anyway enjoy. i don’t actually kno how many more chapters this will have but i’ll work it out bc having “2/?” always annoys me when looking for fics
> 
> thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> kudos are always appreciated and especially comments i love!!
> 
> hope you enjoyed the first chapter <3


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